


Finding my Class: The Adventures of Barris

by Lycanthrope



Series: Finding his Class: The Adventures of Barris [1]
Category: Yogscast "High Rollers" D&D Campaign
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, High Rollers - Freeform, Other, yogscast - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycanthrope/pseuds/Lycanthrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because some of our favourite npc’s aren’t around anymore, doesn’t mean they aren’t having their own fun.</p><p>A collection of encounters, not necessarily in chronological order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drips in the Dark

“You, have got to be joking.” Torwen said looking back over her shoulder at the loud scrape and click that had echoed though the empty chamber. 

Barris looked back a little sheepishly as he took a step closer to the door that had just closed behind them. “The hinges must be broken.” He said a tad optimistically while he looked around for the handle. “Oh.” He then commented finding the solid chunk of wood sitting flush against the door frame. No handle, no knocker nothing but the warped, sturdy, impassable wood. “That’s different.”

Torwen pulled her cloak to hang it around her armless side, out of habit, then moved to inspect the door herself. She touched it lightly, saw there was no way to open it from this side and sighed. “How is it we always seem to end up in these situations?” She asked rhetorically. 

Barris pulled his shoulders into a slow shrug, instinctively knowing that she didn’t want an actual answer from him. “There’s a door on the other side?” He suggested hoping that might be somewhat helpful. Stepping away and more importantly out of striking distance from the nimble elf as she narrows her eyes in his direction. “It’s no problem, we can just…”

“Barris stop!” Torwen interrupted, cutting off his speech and reached for him. It’s pointless, as he was too far away and intent on pacifying Torwen’s growing ere, so didn’t see the very thin stream of magical light beaming across the room just above his ankles. 

Barris felt a cold tingle against his shin, which stopped him dead in his tracks. His gaze dropped down to his feet, just in time to see the magical ray of white light flicker once and disperse completely. “That’s not good.” He muttered to himself and felt his body go still in terror a split second before his mind can tell him why. Lifting his head to look around at the walls themselves, as they begin to knock metallically and groan ominously.

Neither of them remembered to even breathe as they looked around at the empty room, both waiting for the trap to spring into action and bring the walls crashing down upon them. As they looked around however, they both noticed something much more frightening. Pipes. Around a dozen of them all close to the ceiling and around six inches in diameter. They creak and grind and knock, echoing around the still room before, with a splutter, they begin pouring water.

They only had a moment of relief that the liquid wasn’t something more nefarious than water. That is until they noticed how quickly the level was raising around them.

Torwen looks to Barris who immediately began to stutter an apology. “Not now.” She stated, around the lump of fear gathered in her throat, fisted her hand in the shoulder of his tunic and pushed him towards the other side of the room, already having to splosh around in the shallow pool building around their feet. 

Barris managed around three steps, once foot catching on another and he would have comically fallen flat on his face if it weren’t for comically colliding with an invisible but extremely solid wall. His chest crashed painfully and before he can catch himself, he landed with a loud splash on the floor. “Ow.” He complained loudly, rubbing his face and scowling towards the visibly empty room. 

Torwen glanced down at the confused looking man then back up with a mirrored expression. “This just became a little more difficult.” She complained reaching down to drag him back to his feet. 

The liquid, by this point was up to Torwen’s ankles, her feet having to kick at it in order to press forward. She held out a hand to feel for what Barris had just found. It was defiantly a wall and judging by the way it warmed her hand it had to be magical. “Try to find an opening.” She told her companion, running her hand along the obstruction and heading in one direction around the room. 

It takes him a moment to shake away his surprise but Barris began to mimic her movements in the other direction. A few moments later he called out over the sound of the rushing water. “Tor. I found one.” 

Torwen stopped and looked over at him, her fingers already curled around the corner of the opening she had found on the other side of the room. She looked back at him and didn’t have the heart to tell him aloud that there was a second entrance. So instead steps through the opening.

“Oh. Crap.” Barris cursed quietly. “You go that way!” he instructed uselessly, as Torwen had already began making her way through her side of the room. “I’ll go this way.” He muttered to himself and he reached out towards both sides of the small space. Using the solid walls to keep himself upright and feeling for corners. The whole time hoping and praying that both routes would bring them out at the exit on the other side of the room. 

Barris very quickly discovers this maze was just a little unforgiving. Not only was the water raising so quickly that he could already feel it lapping at the back of his knees. He also found so many dead ends that if it weren’t for the fact he could see exactly how far he had been able to progress, he might have begun to think that it was sending him round in an endless circle.

Torwen didn’t having nearly as much of a problem. Her path was winding and slow going but she hadn’t had to backtrack. Which was helpful, because the water level very quickly reached all the way up to her waist and she didn’t have the balance that she needed to be able to pick up her pace. Couple that with the fact that every few steps she had to stop and reach out for the other side of the wall to make sure she hadn’t missed any forks in her route, her side may have been much simpler but her progress was just as slow as Barris’

The water was all the way up to Torwen’s chest when she finally reached and fell heavily against the damp, slimy wood that covered their only exit. She reached down through the water to grasp the handle. A swift push and pull told her everything she needed to know.

Barris turned an invisible corner just across the room from her and saw he had reached the end of the maze. He began to wade quicker, eager to be out of the freezing pool that had been gathering all around them. Smiling, brightly at her in triumph until he smashed into the wall once more. His face flattening against it and knocked him half a step backward.

With a fair bit of effort Barris righted himself and dragged his body through the water back towards the obstruction. Reaching out to feel around with no small amount of desperation. He was only yards from the door and this final dead end was almost enough to make him scream in frustration. “This just isn’t fair.” He stated weakly battering the wall with the flat of his hand. 

Torwen looked up at him and wished she didn’t have to inform him that: “The door’s locked.” 

Barris could do nothing but whimper lightly at this new information. 

“I’ll try to get it open.” She told him pulling a dagger from her belt, having heard the pitiful noise clearly. “You’re going to have to come around this way.” 

He nodded shaking the water out of his eyes one more time. “Tor.” He said to her gently before he moves. 

“No.” She said sharply aiming the point of the blade towards his sodden nose. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I am not drowning in this room. So you’d best get moving so you can help me get this door open. Do you hear me?”

He smiled once more catching her determination quickly and pushed off the wall. It was so deep by this point It was easier for him to swim around the passageways in order to get back and around. He pulled his feet up and off the solid ground reaching out in front of him feeling around blindly, trying to find the corner of the smooth magical wall. It took him a few times but he got enough of a grip to pull himself around it and begin to make his way back to the other end of the room. 

He didn’t dare look back towards Torwen but even if he had he wouldn’t have been able to see the look somewhere between frustration and grim determination that had stretched across her face. 

There were many things that became very difficult when she lost her arm. To the point where she had to stew in her own sense of uselessness for a while before she shook it off and decided that she wasn’t going to let it keep her down. Even if it could keep her from active duty in her guard post, no one could say it was too dangerous to go out on adventures except her. 

Swimming was something that had become very difficult. Floating was easy but trying to force her body to stay under the steadily rising waterline was a challenge in itself. Staying submerged while feeling around for a lock was not something that was possible for her. So she blinks against the freezing sting of the water and must rely on her blurred vision to inspect the mechanism. 

She breaks the water line and has to stretch her neck and tilt her head up in order to keep her toes on the floor and still be able to breathe. So with her hand she blindly searches for the key hole, and lines up the point of her dagger to the inside of it. It looked like a simple enough lock but trying to break or pick a it, one handed had proved to be nothing more than a wasted effort whenever she had tried before, but she couldn’t just stand there and wait to drown while Barris made his way back through the maze. So while drawing on all of her determination Torwen lined up her body with the hilt of the dagger and began to try and throw herself against it with enough force to snap the mechanism. 

Barris was aware that without his feet touching the ground, the only indication he had to tell him how much time they had left was how close the ceiling is getting. Which appeared to be coming down on him at an alarming rate. So quickly in fact that by the time he reaches the door they entered through it is completely submerged and he can almost reach the pipes that are pumping endless water into the room with them. He considered, only for a moment, trying to stem the flow of water from one of the pipes but considering he still needed to cross the room, though another maze of invisible walls he didn’t think that slowing down one of the twelve pipes was worth his time. 

There was only a single path through the maze on this side of the room, so he was able to quickly swim up to Torwen, who was trying and failing to hold herself under the water long enough to even attempt to jimmy the lock. 

He reached out as she broke the surface and she dropped the dagger into his hand. Her breathing was heavily when their eyes met. There was a moment. Just a second where both were just happy that the other is here, right there and then. 

Torwen is the one to break the moment. Reaching out against the wall to try and stay above the surface and rest after so many failed attempts to get the door open. 

Barris dove under the water without a word, swimming downwards and curling his body up under the door, taking a moment to inspect the lock himself. Doing just as Torwen, and pressing the tip into the keyhole and using the flat of his hand against the hilt to dislodge it. His hand travelled with much less force and speed while underwater but still he tried, over and over again. Trying to ignore the burning in his chest but as he went for another strike he fumbled, catching the hilt with his now aching palm and tore the weapon from his other hand. 

He cursed loudly but all he manages to accomplish was losing the last dregs of his held breath and his vision began to blacken at the edges. Still he looked around for a moment, hunting for the blade but he just couldn’t stay submerged any longer. So he abandoned it for now, kicking against the floor to propel himself upwards. 

Just as he began to wonder just how long he had been trying to jimmy the lock, his head hit the ceiling with a crack and for a moment he floundered in panic. Reaching up and finding a space of only a few inches between the waterline and the hard celling. He had no more precious air to lose so when he found he could press his lips against the cold stone, he had enough clear space to draw in breath. Greedily he sucked in air, trying not to panic any more than he already was. 

He couldn’t talk himself into diving down. He just couldn’t, his arms ached and every part of his body felt cold. Which is just made the burning in his chest feel like red hot pokers pressing directly onto his lungs. So he stayed there for as long as he could, sucking in deep lungful’s of air until the last moment and there wasn’t enough space for him to draw any more. 

Then, and only then, holding his breath and pushing down from the ceiling he dragged himself back down to the bottom of the pool. Well aware that this was his last chance. 

He fumbled around on the floor for what felt like hours, hunting for the small dagger and when his fingers finally touch the cold metal he already wished he could go back to the surface for air. 

Knowing he couldn’t, he didn’t waste the time. Lining up the blade once more he swung and through the water he was sure he heard something. The distinct sound of something breaking. He didn’t know if it’s his mind playing trick on him or not until he reaches out and turns the handle. 

The pressure of the water against the door was more than enough for it to swing wide open, smashing and splintering against the wall with the force. The water began to glug out of the room though the doorframe and onto the floor of the hallway. Dragging along Barris with it. 

He had enough of his wits about him to realise that the current was going to smash him against the opposite wall of the corridor and finds enough time to be able to twist his floating body, so his side crashes into the stone wall, as opposed to the flat of his face. However there is nothing he can do about the same current dragging Torwen though the door and slamming into his back. 

They were both stuck there for several seconds, the water crushing them together. Neither of them able to draw in a decent breath, or escape the strong tide. So as the flow started to ebb around them, muscles began to relax and joints crumpled beneath both adventures. They slumped down to the sodden floor beneath them. Cold, exhausted and weary but breathing. 

Torwen let Barris know she is still conscious by letting out a breathless laugh. It was broken and jagged because every time she let out the feeble noise she had to fill her aching lungs once more. But it is infectious. As Barris begins to do the same. Euphoric over the simple fact of still being alive. 

“Next time.” Torwen began, dragging her hand up and simply letting it drop with a soggy splat against Barris’ leg, so she knew where he was in the thin corridor, without having to look. “We go after a wizard.” She continued and stops to gulp in some more air. “Let’s do some research. Okay?” 

“Sure.” Barris said just as breathless. 

Both of them could have groaned, if they’d had the energy as they hear sploshing footsteps approaching them. They hadn’t drowned, but now they were helpless, against whatever was coming towards them. 

“Hey guys.” A familiar voice piped up and Barris lifts a heavy eyelid, more than just a little relived to spy a heavy set woman dwarvan as the source of the noise. Hoot stretching out his wings as he rested his talons on her shoulder. “How come everything is all wet?”


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of Torwens thoughts and feelings after the battle with the Orcs.

There were just so many bandages. Going from grimy, grey material to crisp, white before quickly turning to pitch black with congealed blood. Her congealed blood. It’s a chore, having them removed and it seems to take an age to complete but when they begin to stick to her skin with the black, dried blood, she almost wished it could have taken longer. To postpone seeing it. 

When Torwen had woken from the battle with the orcs, she’d known something wasn’t right. She couldn’t move any of her limbs. Exhausted from a combination of exertion and massive blood loss. It was something she had experienced before, so it didn’t worry her too much. What she hasn’t seen before was the look of pity in the eyes of her healers. Some, those that felt the pain of their patients as though it were their own. She’d see it in their eyes often. Something as small as a sprain could provoke pity in their eyes, but most healers were old hardened creatures. Those that had forced themselves to practically bathe in the blood of others. Those that had seen coming up to a millennia of scuffles, skirmishes and war. When they looked at you, as though they didn’t have the heart to tell you the full story. That was the time to start worrying. 

She had been convinced for almost a full day that she was dying. Not in a blaze of glory, in battle but cold and alone, in an uncomfortable hospital bed. At the time she couldn’t think of a worse fate, until someone worked up the courage to tell her. First there had been relief that she would live. Then slowly came the grim realisation that she could never live the same way again. 

With only one arm she would never duel wield again. She’d never climb, she’d struggle to even ride a horse. She would live, but she would have far preferred to have gone out defending her spire. 

Since then, she had been confined to the hospital. This had been fine until she regained the strength in her reaming three limbs. Then it just started to get boring and a bored scout, always quickly turned into a disruptive scout. She wanted to be up, she wanted to be out. She needed to be putting her life back on track. Which is why after several days of whining and moaning the bandages were coming off early. So the wounds could be inspected. 

She hissed loudly in pain as a section of fabric pulled away from the raw wound. Closed her eyes and turned her head away from the healer pulling at it. He would clearly see the stiffening of her back but she would not let him witness the pool of fresh tears gathering in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” Tirnel said his fingers hesitating on the bandage. “I can get a balm for you.” 

“It’s okay.” Torwen said through gritted teeth. The healer was competent. Young. So very young, not even part way though his second century. His inexperience made him terrified of hurting those in his care, but once he grew out of that he would be an effective cleric. “Just… Get it off me.” Torwen said stealing her resolve. 

“Yes.” He said, with a quiver in his voice going back to gingerly pealing the bandage away from the sore skin. 

At this point Torwen dared to look down. The blood and ooze had soaked through the white material. Along several layers, fusing them together and to her mangled skin. She knew the wound had been cauterised at the scene to prevent her from bleeding out but she hadn’t been prepared for the way her skin had fused together in such a distorted collection of scared, bright red skin. 

As the final scraps of material were pulled away she turned from it. Tirnel began to examine her stump closely. Resting his hand on the simple symbol resting on a chain around his neck. Holding out another hand with a few mumbled words as healing light traversed the space between them. Torwen concentrated on the soft glow pulsating from the symbol as he touched a finger gently to the circle suspended in a small triangle. 

The healing soothed the scolding skin and calmed the angry red colour the wound seemed to radiate. It took only a few seconds for Tirnel to finish his spell. “Is that any better?” He questioned gently. 

Torwen nodded around the pain she still felt, it wasn’t bleeding but she didn’t think she could stand to have anything touching it just yet. Biting her lip, she looked over at her healer. “Am I well enough to leave?” Torwen knew she was pale. That her eyes were shrunken, bloodshot and had deep lines of black under them. The shortest look in the mirror told her that and when she stood it took all of her effort not to sway on the spot. None of this was enough to convince her to lie back down on the lumpy bed and let herself heal. 

“I couldn’t say.” Tirnel admitted, his words slow. “I’d think they would want to keep an eye on you for a few more days.”

"I can't just sit here for a few more days.” She told him, firm resolve clamping down and masking the pain. 

He looked a little sympathetic to that nodding in understanding. “I don’t have the power to do anything I’m afraid.”

“Can I speak to Amris?” Torwen asked him, the commanding tone of her rank shining though for the first time since she awoke here. 

He was taken aback by this request. “I…” He stuttered dumbly. “I-I don’t know. Will he see you?”

That made Torwen think. Speaking to the old mage about deployment of troops was a little different to asking for him to throw about his political weight. “No.” She told herself. There was once more option. “No. I’d like to request an audience with Commander Payla.” 

If he was surprised before, he was struck dumb by this request. 

“I can do it in writing.” Torwen said after a few seconds of awkward silence. “I need paper and a quill.”

It took Tirnel a moment, stuck in his stupor, before he scrambled away to attend to her request. Very quickly Torwen had writing implements out on the small table to the side of her bed. Having to deal with a whole other problem she hadn’t considered. She’d lost her dominant arm. Holding the quill in her left hand felt awkward and weird. It even hurt if she tried to bear any weight onto the quill for longer than a few seconds. 

She found herself throwing it down to the desk in frustration. She couldn’t do the simplest of things and she dreaded to think what it would feel like once she had a sword in her hand again. She sat back on her bed, running her hand over her jaw slowly and thinking over her options. 

She had trouble writing and anything outside of a desk job would do nothing but put her comrades in danger. Requesting to be posted back to her position wasn’t just pointless it was downright irresponsible. Realising this, hurt. Stung more than her gnarled stump but now she had done it, she couldn’t in good conscience request her old position back. That made everything rather simple if she would just admit it. 

So she reached out and screwed up the top sheet of blotched paper where she had been able to write a couple of words. Then on wobbly legs went in search of a scribe to help her. 

 

One letter and two days it took to be summoned to her commander’s door. Considering all of the upheaval with the Orcs at the moment she couldn’t help but feel a little impressed with herself. She hadn’t expected to be granted an audience quite so quickly. 

In a lot of ways she was thankful. That she could have this conversation over with, before she could talk herself out of it. On the other hand she was still very pale and wobbly on her feet. Not exactly the image of a strong willed woman who had made up her mind. She took the opportunity though. The sooner she did this the sooner she could tie up any loose ends. 

She awkwardly adjusted her armour under her tunic. Pulling it back where it had slipped over the stump of her shoulder and settling it back straight. Then knocked the large wooden door she had been staring at for some time. Working up the courage to announce her arrival. 

“Enter.” Was the only sound that came from the other side of the door and Torwen pushed it open in response. Commander Payla tilted her head upwards, from where she had been reading at her desk and leaned back in her seat upon seeing the ranger. She reached out and closed the book in front of her and gave Torwen her full attention. “Lieutenant Ialdas.” She said looking her up and down. Torwen must have looked a state. Sickly and weak trying to move around the spire in heavy leather armour. “Come in, sit down.” The commander then added motioning to the chair on the other side of her desk. 

Torwen nodded and was so grateful that the office was relatively small considering the commander’s status. She managed to get across the room and tried not to fall into the seat. It ended up being more of a slide down the back of the chair, as she had trouble figuring out exactly where it was, with only one anchor point. 

Payla watched this with keen eyes and a raised brow. “Should you even be out of the med bay?” She asked with concern. 

“Thank you commander. You’re looking well yourself.” Torwen replied with a forced smile. Avoiding the question because she was pretty sure she wasn’t.

“Have it your way.” Payla said resting her arms down on the side of the chair. “What’s all this talk of resignation?” 

“Just as it sounds.” Torwen said. “I’ve served my queen. I’ve served my spire. I’ve given so much of myself to both.” She continued and only realised she was subconsciously touching her shoulder when she pulled her hand away. Then gripped the chair to keep herself from doing it again. “I think it might be time to move on.” 

“You’ve been injured.” Payla reasoned. “Worse than many of us will ever be. That doesn’t mean you have to leave. I have paperwork to secure you a promotion.” 

“Promotion?” Torwen asked. She had to admit that she did have a little slither of temptation run down her spine but she shook her head, to dislodge it. “Who would I reasonably lead? I can never and will never order a man to do something that I am unable too. Not even you can say there aren’t a lot of things that I am suddenly incapable of.” 

"That doesn’t mean you haven’t done those things.” Payla argued. “Or that you would lose any sort of respect because you now can’t. You have a severe war wound. Then men will understand that.”

“And if I no longer have enough respect in myself?” Torwen said. “What then?” 

Payla deflated a little at that. Taking a deep breath and looking her scout over once more. “Only you can change that.” 

“And with all due respect, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” Torwen said, catching and holding her commander’s eye. 

Payla sighed deeply, leaned forward and bridged her fingers. “Say I do this. I’m not saying I will but let’s just say I grant you an honorary discharge. What will you do?” 

“I’ll leave the spire.” Torwen said firmly. This part of what she had planned left a bitter taste in the back of her throat. 

“That…” Payla said and left her mouth agape for a split second longer than she needed too. “That is very surprising.” She finally admitted. “Where will you go?” 

“I’d thought north.” Torwen said only just now thinking about it. “See more of the country.” 

Payla let out a long but quiet groan at the back of her throat. “See the country?” She echoed. Not believing that for a moment. She paused and they both allowed the silence to stretch to the point of uncomfortable. “You’ve no idea what you’re going to do. Do you?” 

“No.” Torwen admitted with a sigh. “All I know is I have to leave. I have to find…” She paused and thought for a moment. “Find a way I can be useful again.”

“You can be useful to me here.” Payla insisted quickly. 

“I am a soldier in this spire. That is all I have the desire to be.” Torwen said her voice growing firmer once more. “Unless I am whole, I won’t just be useless I will also be a burden. So I wish to leave the spire.” 

Payla’s whole face hardened at the change in Torwen’s tone. “I’ll think about it.” She said then looked down at the pages on her desk attempting to dismiss Torwen. 

Torwen however didn’t attempt to stand. “I’m only asking as a curtesy commander.” She said, her heart thudding in her chest, for the disrespect she was showing Payla. 

She looked back up from the desk, slowly. Her eyes hooded beneath her brow until she tilted her head upwards. “You’d threaten to desert?” Payla said slowly and tilting her head to the side, not angry. More curious. “Why?”

“It’s the best thing for me to do.” Torwen said. “For all concerned. I can’t put anyone else in danger if I’m not keeping anyone safe.”

Payla rested her elbow on the desk and lent her chin on her fisted hand. “And there is nothing I can say, or do, that will change your mind.”

“I don’t believe so.” Torwen said. 

Payla then took another deep breath. “One week.” She said. “Go back to the med bay and rest. For one week. When you’ve gotten a little more of your strength back, we’ll have another conversation. If you still feel the same. Then I’ll do what I need to so you can leave that day. If you’ve changed your mind, we’ll never bring it up again.” 

Torwen thought for a moment. She had hoped to leave that evening, but even sitting down her knee was still shaking slightly. So she nodded in agreement. “I won’t change my mind commander.” 

“Don’t decide anything just yet.” Was Payla’s only advice. 

 

Torwen was more just a little stubborn. She’s packed most of her things to leave within the first day. She’d set the bag at the bottom of her bed, so that everyone who walked passed would be reminded of her intentions by the end of the week. Even her. 

So when it became time to pick that bag up again, it no longer scared her as much as it had. She was used to the idea. She was even beginning to become excited about it. There was just one thing left for her to make her mind up about. 

So she stood at the side of her bed. Staring down at it silently. She’d handed in her tunic and her pin to show her rank. But the armour she now wore and the twin scimitars that now lay crossed on her mattress. They were hers and she couldn’t for the life of her decide what she wanted to do with them. 

She knew she could only actually use one. Not even with her many years of training could she contemplate trying to wield both with only one hand. But they had been made to be perfect mirror images of one another. They had been balanced not only for the weight of the blade to the hilt, but also on either side of her body as she used them. They were meant to be used as a pair, sisters in steal and here she was trying to decide if she was going to split them up or not. 

The answer was certainly not, she wouldn’t but it was taking most of her willpower to talk herself into giving them up for a single weapon. It was almost as agonising as actually losing her arm but eventually, she threw her bag awkwardly over her shoulder and gathered both sheathed blades up on one hand. 

“Come on Deathbringer.” She said to the owl perched at the bottom on her bed. He hooted at her and flapped his wings to lift up and onto her shoulder. His weight pressed against her wound but she would bear, with little more than a hiss between her teeth for her trusted pet. 

The walk to the blacksmith was a hard one, every steep felt slower and more sluggish, as though wading through muck, instead of the dread gathering in her chest. It was almost heart breaking how easy it was for her to trade in the two blades in exchanged for one. 

The new scimitar didn’t feel right in her hand. Partially because it was heavier than she was used to and also because she had no counter weight on the other side of her body for it. She still strapped it to her side and took it with her. She’d just have to get used to it and leaving the spire without a weapon didn’t seem like such a good idea. 

It was just one more thing to eat into her self-respect. One more thing to drive her away from her home and out into the wilds. She was in the forest within the hour after losing her prized swords. Hoping the foliage would hide her and her shame away, forever. 

Her solitude, which she craved so furiously, to wallow in her self-pity. Didn’t last long. Not even a day.

It's was a small prick at the edge of her conscious mind to begin with. There was a presence in her forest. Someone or something was bumbling their way between the trees, making so much noise that Torwen was constantly aware of them. Even Hoot was getting agitated. Flying off from the campfire to see what was going on, only to come back quite some time later and ruffle his feathers irritably. It seemed that he was craving some peace and quiet, just as she was. 

As with most that wandered into the forests with no idea how to navigate, track or even what to expect. The heavy footed, clearly lost footsteps at some point became those of terrified fleeing. She may have been in a bad enough mood to just ignore it. Let people sort out their own problems for once. It had brought her nothing but trouble. It was just unfortunate that whatever was thundering through the forest, was heading in her direction. 

“Perfect.” She mumbled sarcastically. Looking out into the forest. Where she could just about make out the movement of the foliage. She glanced towards her puffed up owl, who flew off to investigate. Then stood from where she had been leaning against a large tree. 

It took two grabs to pull the unfamiliar sword from its sheath but the rest of her body remembered how to fall into a defensive stance. Patiently she waited, for the thunderous noise to make itself known. 

A man broke the tree line first. Well a man by human standards. A boy by Torwen’s. Still he was first to enter her sights. He stumbled heavily on a tree root and even when he landed on his hands his feet were still kicking the leaves out from under himself. Trying to gather the speed he had before. 

He managed to get back onto his feet, barely but upright and it was only then that he noticed Torwen was even there. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as he began to run towards her as fast as his legs would carry him. He was wearing shoddy, probably second hand, padded armour and even from this distance Torwen could see the empty sheath, hanging uselessly down by his legs. 

He ran past her, not through her. Which was helpful because she was able to see the creature she had been able to hear for several minutes now. Snorting and galloping between the trees. 

The boar was huge. For what it was, its shoulder coming up somewhere between Torwen’s waist and shoulders and it must have been longer than she was tall. A massive, snorting, angry beast of pure muscle. And it was charging her. 

She waited, steadying her nerve and stealing her resolve. This was her terrain, she didn’t need to be in prime condition to see off this animal. Terrifying as it was. At the last moment, when the boar’s head lowered to imbed its tusks into her flesh, she stepped aside, smacking its shoulder with the flat of her blade. It would sting, and the noise should frighten it but it wouldn’t bleed from the blow. 

The creature naturally changed course. Trying to put some distance between itself and the new danger. It stumbled a little under its own weight and speed, then came to a stop a little over fifteen feet away from her. It turned on the spot and beat it’s hooves against the soft carpet of dried, dead leaves. It’s snorting breath turning to mist at its mouth, headless of the mild weather. Then it bowed its head once more and charged again. 

The same trick did work a second time but taking a little more of a risk, Torwen managed to make herself wait. Letting the beast pass her mostly by, before she smacks the flat of her blade off its rump with a resounding crack. 

Its squeals would probably have been heard for miles. The shock and the sudden stinging in its hind quarters enough for the creature to decide this wasn’t a battle worth fighting. It didn’t turn, it didn’t even stop as it continued its charge back into the trees. 

The boy had stopped, he had put his hands against his knees and was trying to catch his breath but still managed to look up at her with reverence. “Thank.” He began but had to suck in more air to continue. “You.” 

“It’s fine.” Torwen said, trying to sheath her sword without looking at the scabbard but fails. Her cheeks darken significantly with the fumble and she looks down to be able to line up the point with her sheath. Without the ability to hold it still, it wasn’t the easiest of things to do. “You really shouldn’t mess around with boars. They’re quite territorial.” She informed him, still not looking up. 

“Yeah? Sneaky little blighters too.” He said to her with a crooked smile. “My names Barris. What’s yours?”


End file.
